


The Underground Collective of Amputees, Basket Cases, and General Misfits

by emofungus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, No one is cool, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please protect my children, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emofungus/pseuds/emofungus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree's life has not been going well as of late, and packing his bags and moving in with his father in Chester, Rhode Island just seems like another inconvenience. But to his surprise, he may find a home here, alongside a pyromaniac, an incessant annoyance, a SoundCloud musician, a brooding bookworm, and other social outcasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

He felt out of place.

That was the first thing Jesse noticed about his new school. Well, that and the fact that no chair had any business being as uncomfortable as the one he sat in, waiting outside the principal’s office, bathed in a holy swatch of florescent light in the ungodly hours of the morning. For once, he wasn’t there because of anything he did. He just needed his locker combination and his schedule and he would be on his way, preferably sooner rather than later.

He absent-mindedly bounced his leg up and down, fiddling with the bottom of his flannel shirt, wondering what in the hell could be taking so long. It had almost been an hour already, and classes were going to start soon. The kid beside him seemed to have more patience than he did, slouching in his chair with a stupid grin on his face. 

“Easy there, mate. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” The kid was looking at him, watching the rapid succession of leg bounces, the grin still on his face.  
Jesse laughed, if only a little. “Sorry. Just kinda nervous I guess.” 

The kid shook his head. “There’s no need to worry, old Morrison tends to be pretty easy to please this early in the morning. Just tell him you had a momentary lapse in judgement, and you’re trying to better yourself as a person. He’ll buy it. Trust me, I’ve been here countless times.”  
Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Guess you don’t mind if I ask what for?”  
“It’s all some pretty petty stuff, really. Couple explosives here, couple fires there. No one’s ever gotten too badly hurt.” McCree laughed at what he assumed was a joke.  
“No funny business here, mate.”

McCree cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right. Well uh, I don’t think I’ll have to do much smooth talkin’. I just gotta get my schedule…”  
“Oh, so you’re new? Well, welcome to Chester, then. How you likin’ it so far?”  
“Better than I was expectin’, I suppose. But my expectations were pretty low. My grandparents grew up here, always told me this was the armpit of the world.”

That remark seemed to be the funniest thing the Australian had ever heard. Jesse smiled awkwardly as he watched him burst into laughter, hands moving to clutch his stomach as tears formed in his eyes. McCree’s leg bounced faster as he managed a light chortle.  
“Aw, mate,” the blonde remarked as he managed to calm down, “you’re fuckin’ funny, y’know. I’m Jamison Fawkes, by the way, but people call me Jamie. They also call me Junkrat, but that one ain’t quite as endearing.” Jamie’s smile faltered a little before he offered a hand. 

Without thinking, Jesse shook it. His stomach fell as soon as he realized what he was doing, his eyes slowly lowering to confirm what he already knew. His left hand poked out from his sleeve, reflecting light into his eyes as of to make a further mockery of him. His breath caught in his throat as he waited for Jamie’s unavoidable reaction, unable to look him in the eye.

He wasn’t quite used to it himself. The wound was new. It was barely a month before the move that he first received the prosthetic, the nurse at the hospital showing him how to use it, how to clean it properly and care for it. It earned him a lot of pity, and lost him a lot of friends.

“Nice member!” Jamie let out a low whistle as he examined McCree’s prosthetic, turning it over in his hands gently as if it were an art piece. Relief swept over Jesse in a wave, lifting his stomach back up to its proper place.  
“You… like it?” He tried not to come across as shocked or rude, but he couldn’t help it when he was used to nothing but awkward questions whenever anyone noticed his prosthetic.  
“It’s nice machinery, that’s for sure. Not as good as this old beauty, of course.” He lifted the leg of his cargo pants to reveal a prosthetic of his own, looking like a glorified pegleg.  
“That’s one sexy leg,” McCree remarked, making no attempt to cover up his southern drawl. This earned laughter from both of them, albeit more from Jamie. Maybe he wasn’t so out of place.

Jamie spent a good few minutes explaining all the modifications he had made to his prosthetics. He showed off his arm, even though, according to him, it didn’t function nearly as well as his leg, which he had running “just like real flesh and bone, honest to God.” He urged McCree to let him tinker with his arm, claiming he could improve it, which McCree politely declined.

“Didn’t happen to catch your name there.” Jamison pulled him out of his momentary bliss.  
“Reckon I didn’t give it. Name’s Jesse McCree.”  
“McCree, huh? That suits you, y’know. Like Mad Dog McCree.” Jamie reached up to flick the brim of McCree’s hat with his metal hand.  
Jesse laughed. “Never heard that one before.”  
“So what, you from Texas or something? Alabama? New Orleans?”  
“Nowhere near as interesting as that, I’m afraid.”  
“Mississippi? Kentucky?”  
“New Mexico, actually,” Jesse said, cutting him off before he listed every southern state.  
“Aw, c’mon, I would’ve gotten there eventually.”

Before McCree could reply, the door to the office swung open and a man with stark-white hair poked his head out.

His eyes fell on Jamie first. “Of course,” he grumbled, dragging his hand down his face. “What was it this time, Jamison? Cherry bomb in the toilet again?”  
Jamie looked almost offended. “I would never use a cherry bomb, sir! What do you think I am, some kind of sell out?” He shook his head. “You should know by now, I only use home-made explosives.”  
“How silly of me.” If Jesse didn’t know better, he would have thought he saw the traces of a smirk on his lips. “Well, I guess I’m gonna have to—“ He stuttered as his gaze bounced to Jesse, to Jamie, to Jesse again. “Oh. You must be Jesse McCree.”  
“Yeah, that’s me.”  
“Okay, you first. Jamison, stay here and try not to blow anything up.”  
“No promises, boss.”

The man said nothing as he motioned McCree into his office, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.  
“Take a seat, McCree.” He started rummaging through a filing cabinet in the corner. McCree sat down on a chair positioned in front of a metal desk, which took up a majority of the small room. A very dusty nameplate read John Morrison, Principal.

“I’m sorry about Fawkes,” he said, pulling a file and closing the drawer. “He’s not a bad kid, he just makes some questionable decisions.”  
“Uh, that’s okay. He wasn’t rude or nothin’. Real nice, actually.”  
“Well that’s good at least.” 

He sat down behind the desk, opening the file and inspecting its contents. “New Mexico, huh?”  
“That’s right.”  
“That’s quite the distance. How’s Rhode Island treating you?”  
“It’s mighty cold.”  
Morrison laughed. “Yeah, but you’ll get used to it soon enough.” He paused, squinting at a document. “Alright, I won’t keep you longer than I have to. Here’s your schedule, and a map of the school if you need it,” he pushed a few papers across the desk. “And if you want, we can arrange for someone to show you around.”  
“That’s okay, really. I think I’ll manage, but thanks for the offer.”  
“You sure?”

From behind him, Jesse heard the door swing open. He turned around to see another man in the doorway, eyes focused somewhere outside the room.  
“Jack, that Australian kid is lighting shit on fire again.”  
“Reyes!” Morrison seemed absolutely appalled by the other man’s language. “There’s a student in here.”  
Reyes turned his head and spotted McCree, giving him a small nod. “Anyway, I took away his lighter, but I don’t think it’s gonna do much to stop him.”  
Morrison sighed. “Well, McCree, this is our vice principal, Mr. Reyes.”  
“I really don’t think he should be left alone,” Reyes said, ignoring him.  
“Then keep an eye him until I can finish up here. And give him a talk about responsibility.”  
Reyes scoffed. “Like we’ve never tried that before. The kid doesn’t care!”  
“That doesn’t mean he’ll never care, if you give him a chance.”  
“Wanna bet?”  
“No! Just get out of my office, will you?”  
Reyes muttered something in Spanish under his breath—it took all of McCree’s strength not to laugh at the remark, or Morrison’s obliviousness—as he turned and left, closing the door loudly.

Morrison sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Now, your first class is in room 120, which is on the first floor, near the gym. Let me know if you need anything.”  
“Will do,” McCree said, standing to leave.  
“Oh, one more thing.”  
Jesse paused, looking back towards the principal.  
“We do have a dress code here. No hats during school hours.”

\---

If he was to be honest, McCree couldn’t care less about dead writers. Despite everything, that much hadn’t changed. True, English was one of the few subjects he actually did well in, but something about that dry writing made him want to fall asleep. 

He read half-heartedly, his eyelids growing progressively heavier as he pretended to take notes on the passage. He yawned, the kind of long-winded, wide-mouthed yawn that spells nothing but trouble for someone trying desperately to stay awake. The words on the page blurred together as Jesse cursed himself for turning down coffee that morning.

“Psst.”

The noise went in one ear and out the other. Jesse’s head was too full of sleep and boring plots to receive it. 

“Psst.”

Louder this time, but still unnoticed.

“Oi, new kid. You alive or what?” The voice was now distinct, female with a cockney British accent. Was anyone at this school American?

McCree grumbled, no longer able to feign ignorance. He turned to his left to find the source of the voice. A girl with a tuft of messy brown hair smiled back at him.  
“Right. Say, did you understand anything on page six? I can’t make out this flowery language for the life of me.”

McCree cast a glance at the teacher, an old woman who occupied herself with a pile of papers at her desk in the front of the room.  
“Oh, don’t mind her, she’s as good as deaf.”  
“If you say so.”  
“So, page six?”  
“I reckon it’s somethin’ about his dead girlfriend. ‘S all he seems to write about. But I dunno, it’s takin’ all my effort not to fall asleep here.”  
The girl laughed. “Yeah, you look a little worse for wear there, lad.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” She was no longer smiling. “I just mean you could use a little kip.”  
“No, I get it. Don’t worry about it. Reckon I didn’t get a whole lot of shuteye last night… what was that word you used? Kip?”  
“Yeah, kip. You know, sleep.”  
McCree smiled to himself. “Don’t think I ever heard that one before.”  
“Must be a British thing, then. Well, thanks for the help, love.”  
“Any time.”

He managed to stay awake for the rest of class, if only just barely.

\---

Jesse stopped by his locker before lunch, his arms already laden down with textbooks. He complained under his breath about the lack of paperless options, if not to save the trees then at least to save his back. He finally opened his locker after three failed attempts at the lock, throwing his books in haphazardly but refraining from slamming it shut. He didn’t want to draw too much attention.

“Would ya look who it is?”

Too late.

Jesse turned to see Jamison Fawkes leisurely strolling down the hall to meet him, trailed by a very, very large, ponytailed student.  
“You headed to lunch, mate?” Jamie called from down the hall  
“Yep.”  
“Great! Us too. You can meet the rest of the gang.”  
McCree motioned towards the other student as the pair caught up. “Who’s this?”  
“Ah, this here’s my mate, Mako,” Jamie said, answering for him.  
“Nice to meet you, Mako. I’m Jesse.”  
Jesse received a nod in response. No words.

The three made their way down the hall, Jamie excitedly explaining McCree’s prosthetic to Mako, who offered the occasional grunt. Jesse couldn’t help but gawk at Mako’s sheer size. He was at least a foot taller than McCree—who was a good 6’1—with broad shoulders, and although he didn’t look to be in the best shape, McCree didn’t doubt that he could probably lift whomever he wanted.

“What say you, McCree?”  
“Huh?” Jesse hadn’t been paying attention to anything Jamison was saying. “Sorry, partner, I think I zoned—“

Jamie fell flat on his face before McCree could finish his sentence, causing both he and Mako to come to a halt. Laughter erupted from somewhere to their left.  
“Hey, Junkrat! Where’d you get that leg of yours, the trash? Real classy g—“

The boy’s sentence was cut short by the loud bang of Mako pushing him against the lockers. McCree watched in both shock and amusement as the boy squirmed, Mako pinning him effortlessly with just one arm, as the group surrounding him was sent into a frenzy.

“Aw, c’mon now, it’s all in good fun,” Jamie said, picking himself up off the floor. “No need to get violent, Mako.”  
Mako looked reluctantly back at Jamie, then back at the boy, who was visibly shaking and sweating. He grunted, tightening the grip on his shoulder.

“H-hey, what do you think you’re doing?” One of the boy’s friends was trying to intervene, getting in between him and Mako. Bad move, McCree thought, as another bang echoed and Mako’s free hand pinned him beside his friend.

Jamie sighed loudly. “C’mon, Roadie, we’re gonna be late!”  
Mako muttered a gruff “fine” before loosening his grip just enough for the two boys to escape. They stumbled as they ran away, followed closely by the rest of their cronies, muttering curses as they fled.

McCree let out a low whistle. “Well you sure gave ‘em what for. God damn.”  
“Yeah, happens more often than you would think,” Jamie replied, shrugging. “Ain’t a big deal.” Jesse couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in his stomach as Jamie brushed off the whole situation as if it were nothing. How many times had this kid been mercilessly teased or beaten up? And McCree somehow felt responsible.

No.

That would be ridiculous. For once, he hadn’t done anything. It wasn’t like that anymore. He was an innocent bystander, or even better, he was on Jamie’s side. It wasn’t like that anymore.

\---

They managed to claim the last empty table in the cafeteria, a beacon of hope in a sea of sweaty, hormonal bodies, although Jesse doubted that anyone would cause much fuss about giving up their seat, if prompted to do so by Mako Rutledge. 

Jesse tried to ignore Jamie’s constant poking at his prosthetic as he ate, to no avail.  
“Wanna go easy on that, partner?” he said, casting him a glare.  
“Wouldn’t dream of harming it, cowboy. But on the off chance something does happen to it, you know who to go to, yeah? Have it fixed up for you real fast, mate’s rate.”  
“He does good work,” Mako commented, not bothering to look up from his tray. Jamison looked truly touched.  
“I think that might be the single sweetest thing you’ve said to me all week.”

“Oi, Junkie!” A chipper voice called to them from the crowd, and McCree turned to see a messy-haired girl briskly walking towards the table. He recognized her from class, but couldn’t remember her name. 

Her eyes fell on McCree. “Hey, I know you,” she glanced back at Junkrat. “You… know Jamison?”  
“’Course he knows me, he’s my best mate! McCree and Fawkes, taking the world by storm!” He hooked his arm around McCree’s neck, locking his head into place. Mako seemed offended.  
“Sure. I just thought maybe… never mind. Right silly thought just popped into my head.” She sat down in the seat across from Jamie. “Anyway, I’m Lena Oxton. Junkie and I used to be on the track team together.”  
“To be fair, I quit before the first meet. Lena, on the other hand,” he cracked a devilish grin, “she runs like a dingo on cocaine.”

“Unbelievable,” McCree interrupted them. “That is the most Australian thing I’ve ever heard. Are you hearing yourself right now?”  
“I’ve had enough of your American bullshit, McCree.”  
“I’m with Junkie on this one. Although I’m not sure—“ 

She fell silent as a pair of fingers reached across the table to pinch her lips shut. Junkrat’s attention was obviously elsewhere.  
“Is that…?” Mako’s gaze had followed Jamie’s to the same spot. Jesse tried to do the same, but all he saw were unfamiliar heads.  
“HANZO!” Junkrat’s voice rang out far further than necessary, prompting strangers to turn and stare at their table. “HANZO SHIMADA!”

McCree could guess which one Hanzo was by the look on his face—pure, disgruntled annoyance—and the way he looked around desperately for an empty chair nearby, to no avail. Slowly, he crossed the cafeteria, shooting an icy glare at anyone who dared giggle. 

“Hello, Jamison.” His English was slightly accented, but not at all broken.  
He did not seem particularly happy to see Jamie, a scowl placed firmly against his brow, his brown eyes heavy with resentment. Still, he carried himself well, hair all gathered into a low ponytail, the smallest bit of stubble along his jaw, like he had just one day forgotten to shave. Admittedly, he didn’t look bad.

He said nothing else as he sat down and pulled a book from his bag. He started to read, as if to make his disinterest even more evident. What a smug bastard, McCree thought to himself. Still, he made a point of checking to see what he was reading. Mythos of the Ancient World. What, like folklore?

“Always got his head in a book, this one,” Jamie muttered not-so-subtly to McCree. Hanzo cast them a glance.

“Hey, Hanzo, have you met McCree?” Lena asked.  
“Is he the one gawking at me?” He didn’t bother looking up from his book.  
“Gee wiz, thanks mister,” Jesse replied, earning a snicker from Jamie and Lena, and a smirk from Mako. Hanzo offered no reply, nor did he offer much in the way of conversation for the rest of their lunch period.

\---

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate. He’s just like that. Always has been.”

Jesse was standing beside Jamie’s locker at the end of the day, right after the final bell. He had been asking the blonde about Hanzo—why he was so passive, where he got off being that rude. Junkrat offered him very little help as he dug through his messy lockers, which instead of being full of school supplies, housed wires, tools and, unsurprisingly, pyrotechnics. Jesse didn’t want to know how he got them into the school.

“Well how long have you known the guy?” he asked, as Junkrat shut his locker and the two started down the hall.  
“Since I first moved here,” he said, squinting thoughtfully. “So I guess that’d be four years, then.”  
“The thing is, y’all don’t seem like you should get along too well, what with the way he walks around looking like he got a stick shoved up his ass.”  
“Yeah, that’s him all right,” Jamie laughed. “But it ain’t lodged in there very deep. Or at least as deep as you would think.”  
“Gross.”

Junkrat shrugged. “Not sure what else to tell ya, Mad Dog. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not very well wanted at this school. Neither is he. Guys like us, we gotta stick together, yeah?”  
McCree nodded. “I think I get what you’re saying.”  
“It’s the same way with Mako and Lena. Just a bit odd is all.”

There it was, that guilty feeling.  
“Sorry ‘bout that.”  
Jamie shook his head. “It really ain’t anything to be sorry about. Makes life a little more interestin’ in the end.”

Jesse felt his foot hit something. Looking down, he saw that he had kicked a book, lying abandoned in the middle of the hallway. He stopped and bent down to pick it up, examining the cover as Jamie paused. Mythos of the Ancient World.

“Speak of the fuckin’ devil,” he said, admiring the gold-printed letters and detailed illustration on the cover. “Ain’t this what he had his nose buried in at lunch?”  
Jamie shrugged. “If it is, I’m sure he’ll be wantin’ it back.”  
“I’m sure he will,” he replied, lifting his gaze to peer down the hallway. “Any idea where he could be?”  
“Try 208. It’s a science lab; he couldn’t be too far from it. He usually hangs around to talk to the teacher after class.” 

Jamie paused, looking at a watch that was not on his wrist. “Listen mate, I wish I could stick around to watch you pull that big metal rod from anus, I really do. But I’ve gotta head to work.”  
“That’s okay,” McCree said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll give you all the nasty details later.” 

\---

McCree found Hanzo on his way up the stairs, his angry disposition lightened but still present. He looked surprised to see someone else.

“Oh, good, Shimada,” Jesse spoke first from where they both stood on the landing. “I was looking for ya. Was hoping you hadn’t already left.”  
“Looking for me?” The question seemed almost accusing. “You are friends with Jamison, correct?” he continued quickly, as if just to make sure.  
“Wha—yes! Why does everyone keep asking me that?”  
“My apologies. I just—“ he stopped himself short. “Never mind. Was there something you needed to tell me?

Hanzo seemed at least a little more open to conversation than he did at lunch, although maybe that was just because he didn’t have a book to distract him. Still, he was noticeably more open and less rude. But if that were really the case, then why could McCree feel his flesh palm start to sweat, his breath catching in his throat? Why did he feel as if Hanzo’s eyes were piercing him—not judging, but questioning? What was making his confidence take such a drop?

His expression was soft.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, see I found this,” he held out the book, “just sittin’ on the floor, in the middle of the hallway. Real traffic hazard.” He grinned at his own joke, faltering as Hanzo simply stared back. “Anyway, I uh, recognized the title, and figured I’d see if I could find you so I could return it.”

Hanzo took the book from Jesse, who had been careful to offer it with his right hand this time. Hanzo examined the cover, his eyebrows raised.  
“Yes, this is mine. I didn’t realize I had lost it.” He looked at Jesse. “Thank you.”  
“Uh, I um, n-no problem,” he stammered, suddenly loosing his grip and tripping over his words.

“Goodbye, then.”  
Hanzo breezed past him, headed down the stairs. Jesse watched him leave, a slight thudding in his head that he blamed on a headache. He shook his head to clear it, following suit as he made his way downstairs and out of the school. It had been a long day.

He felt terribly, terribly out of place.

\---

Spaghetti. Again. For the third day that week. McCree was convinced that was the only thing his father knew how to make, and even then he managed to undercook the pasta.

“So how was your first day of school?” His dad scratched the back of his neck.  
“It was fine.”

The clock made loud noises on the wall, a constant, insistent ticking. The light that hung overhead was dim and yellowish.

“Make any friends?”  
“I met a few people.”

The TV was playing in the other room, a news anchor describing something that neither one of them cared about.

He sighed. “Ever plan on talking to me, like a normal son?”  
“Not really, no.”

Whoever picked out that wallpaper had poor taste, and also didn’t know how to hang wallpaper. Vases of flowers and fancy bows hung lopsidedly, bubbling up at parts.

“I know this has been hard on you.”  
“I’m fine, really. It ain’t that big a deal.

The stove needed to be cleaned. It had probably been collecting grime for far too long.

“Oh. Okay. That’s good then.”  
“Sure is.”

A baby started crying next door, its shrieks easily slipping through the thin walls.

“You got your eye on any cute girls?”  
“Nah.”  
“Me neither.” He laughed nervously.  
“Ever plan on remarrying?”

It came out of the blue, but he didn’t regret saying it.

“I don’t know, Jesse.” His voice took on a tired, annoyed tone. “I used to, but now… it’s complicated.”  
“Do you think I’ll get mad?”  
“The thought had crossed my mind. But it’s not just that. I think things happened too quickly.”  
“That makes sense, I guess.”

If he was being honest, he felt the same way. Something about it didn’t feel real quite yet. One moment she was there, the next she was gone for good. He couldn’t help but wonder if there were things with her and his father that were left unsaid.

“I know this is weird. I haven’t really been in your life.”  
“You’re right about that, at least.”  
“But I’m still your father, and I want what’s best for you. That much hasn’t changed.”

Despite everything.

He stood up. “Thanks for making dinner, Dad.”  
“C’mon, Jesse.”  
He picked up his plate and carried it to the sink. “I’ll keep you updated on that girl thing.”  
His dad sighed again, deeper his time. “Yeah, you do that.” He paused. “Just leave it in the sink, I’ll do the dishes tonight.”

Jesse settled on the sofa to watch TV, the sun already starting to set. Maybe one day he would be willing to talk about it. Just not tonight.


	2. Rooftops, Lesbians, and Boba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, dialogue in [square parentheses] means that the character is speaking another language/ their native language, because I do not want to botch it by running it through some shitty online translator.

McCree wandered down the hall, not sure what to do with his free period. He had a test in two hours, and really should have been studying.

He slowly rounded a corner, hands buried deep inside his pockets, fiddling with a half-empty box of Malboros. Sure could go for a smoke right about now. 

All the doors in the hall were closed, classes going on inside them, save for one. McCree approached it slowly, cautiously, as if scared something might jump out and attack him. Sticking his head through the doorway, he saw a set of stairs leading up to a landing and another door.

He shrugged his shoulders. Sure, let’s do some exploring. What’s the worst that could happen?

The stairs led to the rooftop, its surface warm from the midday sun, despite the chilling bite of the air around it. McCree drew his jacket tighter around himself as shivers rolled down his spine. He sucked in a breath of cold October air, taking in the view. Treetops dominated the landscape, their leaves turned a myriad of warm colors. There were not many buildings in Chester, but what was there was usually pretty old, save for the school and the Arby’s, and maybe the convenience store on Second Street. Roads curved across the landscape, making clearings in the trees around the old church and the cemetery. Jesse was reminded of the old movie his mother used to love, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

“Can I help you with something?” The voice was curt and to the point, and obviously a little annoyed. Not this guy.

Jesse turned to see Hanzo Shimada, sitting against the concrete barrier that enclosed the perimeter of the rooftop, scowling up from his book. 

Jesse scratched the back of his neck half-heartedly. “Just lookin’ for some fresh air. I suppose you want to be left alone?”  
“That is correct.” Hanzo looked at him expectedly.  
He wasn’t about to give up his ground. “Best of luck with that.” He crossed the roof to sit down on the opposite side as Hanzo, leaning against the barrier.  
The bookworm scowled. “I will not be leaving.”  
“Fine then. Don’t.”  
“Fine.”

The two sat in a prolonged expanse of silence, shooting each other angry looks. McCree mumbled to himself as he finally remembered what he came for, taking a cigarette from the box in his pocket and lighting it. He took a long drag, and as he exhaled, he tried for distance, seeing if he could make it reach all the way into that stuck-up bastard’s face. He couldn’t.

“You smoke?” Hanzo’s nose was still pointed downwards towards the book in his lap, but his eyes looked upward in Jesse’s direction.  
“Dunno if I would say that,” he said, the lit cigarette hanging awkwardly from the corner of his mouth. “Occasionally, I’ll have a Malboro, but it ain’t a habit.”  
“That sounds like a habit to me.” Hanzo looked back down at his book. “A filthy habit. You will die young if you keep that up.”

“Alright, partner, how’s about you fuck off and mind your own business?”  
Hanzo remained silent.  
“Look, I get it. You don’t like me.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “But that doesn’t mean you have to go around tellin’ me what to do.”  
“What makes you think I do not like you?” Hanzo was looking up from his book again.  
“Oh, c’mon, it’s obvious.”  
“I do not understand.”  
Jesse waved his hand vaguely in an attempt to explain. “Well, it’s like, your whole shtick.”  
“Hating you?”  
“Yes! I mean, no. Hating people. Mr. Brooding Introvert thinks everyone else is gross.”  
Hanzo fiddled with the pages of his book, looking Jesse dead in the eye. 

“Why did you come here?”

McCree paused, reaching over to flick a butt over the edge of the building.

“Needed somewhere to put my boots up.”  
“Do not lie to me. It’s obvious that you aren’t wearing any boots.”  
McCree’s attempt to stifle a laugh turned into a snort. “Figure of speech.”  
“Are you from Australia?”  
“What? No, I ain’t from Australia! What makes you think that?”  
“That’s where Jamison is from. He is also always saying ridiculous things.”  
McCree frowned and folded his arms. “Yeah, but that’s different. I’m from the southwest. Southwestern America.”  
“It all sounds the same to me.”  
“I take it English ain’t your first language?”  
“Take a wild guess, cowboy.”  
“Geez, ok.” Jesse raised his hands in defense. “See, there’s that shtick again.”

There was a prolonged pause, followed by a cough from Jesse.  
“Look what smoking has done to your lungs.”  
“I was under the impression that you wanted to be left alone.”  
“And yet, here you are.”

Another prolonged pause.

“I do not have a shtick.” Hanzo had closed the book and set it aside, as if he wanted to focus all his attention on proving McCree wrong. Bring it on, bitch.  
“Sure ya don’t sweetheart.”   
“I’m serious.”  
“No, I believe you,” Jesse said, standing up and stretching. He just wanted the conversation to be over. “Listen, I have class soon. I gotta get going.”  
“The door is that way.”  
“Thanks, partner.” 

He left without so much as a “goodbye.”

\---

“Geez, mate, don’t crack a fat.”

It was lunchtime, and Jesse, once again, had been ranting to Jamie about his frustrations with Hanzo.

“What the fuck does that mean?”  
Lena started snickering, and Mako wore an amused expression.  
“It don’t mean anything, don’t worry about it.”  
“It means ‘don’t get a boner’,” Mako offered.  
Jesse shot a glare at Jamie. “What’re you implying?”  
“You’re actin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush.”  
“Where on God’s green earth did you get that idea?”

That idea which, in his mind, secretly thrilled him. He tried to hide his shock; shock that Jamie had even brought it up as if without thinking. Jesse had always thought long and hard about bringing up… certain things among his old friends. Mostly, they blew it off as a joke, or acted like he was behaving strangely for even mentioning it. And then he would blow it off as a joke, to save both his skin and his reputation.

Lena offered an answer. “All we’re saying is that you sure seem to talk about the bloke an awful lot.”  
“’Cause he gets on my nerves!”  
“Bet that’s not the only thing he’ll be getting on, soon enough.” Everyone turned to look at Mako, who smiled proudly at his own comment. Junkrat started laughing wildly.  
“Oh shut up. I’m straight.”  
Jamie snickered. “So is spaghetti, until it gets hot and wet.”

“What about spaghetti?” Hanzo had arrived; book in hand, taking a seat while refusing to make eye contact with McCree. So it’s gonna be that way.  
“[It’s disgusting, and so is your face,]” McCree muttered in Spanish.  
“Nothing important, love,” Lena replied quickly. “We were just…” she trailed off mid-sentence.”

“Hey, Amélie!” She was trying to get the attention of someone passing by their table. McCree followed her gaze, and nearly choked on his food. The girl in question was what one might describe as a bombshell, with waist-length black hair, a petite frame, and doll-like features.

“Oh,” she paused beside their table, casting an awkward glance at its occupants. “Bonjour, Lena. How are you?”  
“I’m doing just chipper! The birds were chirping this morning, rather loudly in fact. Isn’t that a little odd for the middle of October? Though it is warmer this year than usual. Anyways, how are you?”  
Amélie paused, as if unsure if Lena was finished. “Um… I am fine, thank you.”  
“Well that’s good ta hear, innit? C’mon, take a seat; it feels like ages since we’ve had a good chat! And you’re always so busy all the time. You still doin’ that whole ballet thing? God, that must be exhausting, huh? Not that you can’t handle it, of course!” Lena’s mouth was going a hundred miles a minute.

“Oh,” Amélie said, eyes drifting across the cafeteria. “Je suis désolé, I really must be going. But yes, it was nice to speak with you again.” She seemed all to eager to walk away, leaving behind a dismayed Lena.

McCree waited for her to be out of earshot before letting out a snort. “What was that?”  
Lena sighed dramatically, face falling forward to rest on the table. “I got nervous, alright?”  
“That seems to be a common theme, with you and the Lacriox girl,” Hanzo commented.  
“You don’t think I know that? I just don’t know what to do when I’m around her, she’s so bloody attractive!”  
McCree nodded in agreement. “She is quite the looker.”  
Lena lifted her head. “Hey you can fuck right off, Mr. ‘I’m So Straight’, she’s mine.”  
“Oh yeah, you’re playing her like a fiddle.”  
She groaned in response, dragging her hands down her face.

McCree had to admit, Lena’s crush on the Amélie girl was pretty endearing, albeit a little clumsy. Something told him that if anything were ever to come of it, someone was going to have to get their head out of their ass.

“She still one the track team?” Junkrat asked, amusing himself with sculpting his mashed potatoes rather than eating them.  
“Yes.”  
“Aw, tough luck.”  
Lena clicked her tongue. “I think she finds me annoying, if I’m to be honest. It’s just whenever I talk to her I end up running my mouth, and I can’t stop myself.”  
“You are always running your mouth,” Hanzo commented.

McCree grimaced. “That’s funny, I don’t seem to recall anyone askin’ your opinion.”  
Hanzo ignored him.  
“No, he’s right. I have a tendency to ramble.”  
Hanzo looked at Lena apologetically. “That was meant endearingly, of course.”  
Lena lifted her hands in defense. “Everyone can stop pitying me now, I’m fine, really.”

Out of respect to Lena, McCree changed the subject.

\---

McCree slouched in a folding chair, in the far corner of Chester’s only auto garage. He had been complaining about being bored at home, so Junkrat offered to let him accompany him while he was at work. He assured him that his boss would be okay with it—he was cool like that. McCree agreed, for lack of anything better to do.

“…And that’s when he starts running across the desert with the guy on his back, ‘cause he can’t get the shackles off and the War Party is about to catch up with them.”  
“I doubt they could really want him back that badly though. Shouldn’t Joe just be focused on capturin’ those poor ladies?”  
“Sure, but keep in mind he’s got O negative blood type. He’s a universal donor.”

Jamie rolled out from underneath the car he was working on, grease smeared across his face and hands.   
“You say you’ve never seen the originals either?”  
McCree shook his head. “Believe it or not, I’m American.”  
“That’s no excuse, mate.” He grabbed a tool from the nearby bench. “You’ve gotta see ‘em, even if I have to tape your eyes open.”  
McCree shifted in his chair. “Comin’ from the guy who ain’t ever seen a god-damn Clint Eastwood movie.”  
“I’m sorry, what year is this again?”  
“Oh, shut yer mouth, Junkrat.” 

Jesse gazed out the open garage door, across the street at an empty field that might, at one point, have bourn crops, but was now full of fallen leaves. Everything in Chester was kind of like that, desolate to the point of desperation, a place that at one point may have given people hope, but was now nothing more than an obstruction of view.

“So I was thinkin’ we could get some boba after this, meet up with Lena and Mako at this little place I know by the church.”  
Jesse squinted. “This town has a boba place?”  
“We ain’t entirely backwoods, mate.”  
“You have one auto shop.”  
Jamie laughed. “Yeah, we tend to get pretty swamped. If you don’t mind my askin’, what brought ya to Chester in the first place?”

Jesse hesitated. “That’s a loaded question, partner.”  
“Alright, I get it,” Jamie’s voice drifted out from underneath the car. “Figure not many blokes move here for any good reason.”

“Hello, Jamie,” a voice came from the open garage doorway. Much to McCree’s dismay, he looked over to see Hanzo crossing the floor.  
“Hanzo!” Jamie rolled out from underneath the car. “What brings you here? Come to talk to your good ol’ friend McCree?”  
Hanzo and Jesse rolled their eyes almost in unison. “No, I am just dropping off the work you missed when you decided to skip math class.”  
Jamie laughed. “Well, thanks for the effort, mate, but if you think I’m actually gonna do that shit, you’ve gone mental.”  
“I figured as much,” Hanzo replied, setting a stack of papers on the bench. “Just don’t try to blame your incompetence on me.” He turned to leave.

“Hey, hold up, Shimada!” Jamie wore a grin on his face, the kind that spelled trouble not only for himself, but also for those around him.  
Hanzo paused, turning back around. “What is it?”  
“McCree and I were gonna meet up with Lena and Mako after my shift and get some boba tea. Wanna tag along?”  
Jesse and Hanzo wore matching grimaces, and it was clear what his answer would be before he even opened his mouth. “I think I will pass this time, thank you.”  
Jamie’s grin fell briefly. “Aw, c’mon, it’s on me this time!”  
“Nice try,” the bookworm called, already out the door as he lifted a hand dismissively.

Jamie let out a long sigh.  
“Tough luck, kid, but I’d say it’s for the best,” McCree murmured; dropping his chin and covering his hat to cover his face, ready to nap until Jamie’s shift was over.  
“He usually isn’t like this.”  
“Somehow I find that hard to believe, compadre.”  
“I think I’ve known ‘im just a bit longer than you have, Mad Dog.”  
Jesse tilted his hat back again to glare at Junkrat, who was cleaning off a set of wrenches with a stained rag. “What can I say? The guy’s gotta hate my guts, ‘s the only explanation.”  
“If he really hated you that much, you’d have gotten a fist to the face by now.”  
McCree raised his eyebrows. “He don’t exactly seem like the physical type to me.”  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  
Jesse chose to ignore that last comment.

\---

The boba place Jamie had mentioned was actually a noodle shop. Noodle Palace, according to the sign out front. It was, as Lena explained, not only the sole place in Chester to get boba, but also a convenient one-stop shop for ramen, udon, and pho.   
“It’s not very authentic,” Lena said, “but it’s not too terrible, and the price is good.”

They sat around a metal table, Junkrat having ordered himself five teas, consuming each one with the thirst of a man left in the desert for three days. The girl at the counter—Hana, as McCree had later learned—made casual conversation with them from behind her Gameboy, complaining both about the lack of customers and about the fact that she was forced by her parents to get a job.

“They don’t appreciate my passions,” she whined. “They know I make money off my streams, but they don’t seem to care. They say I need ‘real world job skills’.”  
Junkrat shrugged. “Someone’s gotta put the little chewy things in the tea, mate.”  
“And someone else has gotta shut his whore mouth before he gets nerfed.”  
Jesse furrowed his brow. “Doesn’t anyone here speak English?”

Hana paused, as if just noticing him for the first time. “Hey, you’re that McCree kid, right? Just moved here?”  
“Yeah, that’s me.”  
“Only been here about a week and you already have beef with one of the Shimada brothers?”  
Jesse planted his face in his hands. “How do you know about that?”  
“I’m friends with his brother, Genji,” she explained. “Apparently he’s really gotten his panties in a twist this time.”  
This earned snickers from everyone but Jesse.

“Y’know, just once I would like to go somewhere without anyone bringing that shit up.”  
“It’s a small town,” Lena piped, “word travels fast.”  
“It’s slowly ruinin’ my life.”  
“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Jamie said, slurping down tea. “Everyone will forget about it soon enough. In fact, I bet they’ll forget even sooner if you two just shut up and stop complaining about each other all the fuckin’ time.”  
“Yeah, that sounds like it would be a good idea, if’n it weren’t for my pride, which is easily damaged.”

Hana snorted. “Yeah, well good luck getting a Shimada to be the first to make amends. When Genji and I were in sixth grade, the two of them had some big fight and just flat-out refused to talk to each other for an entire year.”  
Lena exchanged glances with Mako. “I do think that situation was a little bit different from this one, love.”  
Hana shrugged. “Still. Those boys know how to hold a grudge.”  
“But I didn’t do anything to ‘im.”  
“If you say so.”

“So, Hana, have you played the new Tomb Raider yet?” Lena asked, veering the conversation away from somewhere it did not need to go.

I never did anything to him, he has no reason to hate me. That’s what McCree tells himself as he drowns out the conversation around him. But if that much were true, then Hanzo certainly hadn’t done anything to illicit his hate either. Except for actin’ like a glorified pile o’ chicken shit, he reminded himself. Hanzo had been nothing but unpleasant from the day he met Jesse, so what kindness did Jesse owe him? None, not a lick of it.

From somewhere in his pocket, Jesse’s phone started vibrating. He sighed as he read the name on the screen.

“Hey, Dad.”  
“Hey, Jesse, you still out with those friends of yours?”  
“Yeah, why?”  
“I’m making dinner soon.”  
“I bet I can guess what it is.”  
“It’s not spaghetti this time.”  
“What a treat.”  
“Listen, I don’t ask a lot of you. Just come home for dinner.”

He was about to reply when he noticed that all eyes had been turned towards him. He bowed his head as he stood up, apologizing and taking the call outside.

“Jesse?”  
“Yeah, I guess I’ll be back soon.”  
“Oh. Ok. Good.”  
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”  
There was that telltale pause, which meant that his dad was about to ask something that he didn’t want to answer.

“So this Lena girl…”  
“Nice try.”  
“So that’s a ‘no’?”  
“I ain’t exactly sure if she even bats for my team in the first place.”  
“She’s a lesbian?”  
“Dad.”  
“Look, Jesse, I know the move had been hard on you, and I know how hard it is to make new friends. It’s not like I’m going to pry into all of your friendships, but of all the kids that must go to that school, why someone like that?”  
Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. She’s a nice person, we have common interests, and I don’t give a horse’s ass about her sexuality.”  
“I realize that, but as your father—“  
“Look, I’ll be home soon. We can talk about this later, okay? Take care.”

Jesse hung up the phone, sighing and plunging it back into his pocket. He stood outside in the cold for a while, leaning against the exposed brick at the front of Noodle Palace. The sun was well into setting, casting vivid oranges and pinks across the greying sky. Finally, he decided to seek refuge inside, with his lesbian friend who was such a bad influence.

\---

Two days later, McCree had yet another free period, and the door to the roof was unlocked again. Scaling the stairs, he had prepared to see Hanzo there, bent over a book as always, but he was nowhere to be found. Content in his loneliness, he stood and leaned against the concrete barrier, looking out over the woodsy landscape, cigarette in hand.

“McCree?” The voice came from behind him. Spoke too soon.  
“Hm,” he grunted, not even bothering to turn around.  
“Usually I come here because I want to be alone.”  
“Sorry to put a damper on your plans, partner, but you don’t own the school.”  
“I fail to see where that was implied.”  
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Forget it.”

He finished off his cigarette, flicking the butt into the bushes below. Still, he did not turn around.

“I do not have a shtick.”  
“Jesus, you still on about that?”  
“Apparently so.”  
“Look, I’m sorry I said it in the first place.”  
“Is that an apology?”  
“More for myself than for you.”  
“You are incredibly difficult.”  
“You’re one to talk.”  
“We are both talking at the moment.”  
“Figure of speech.”  
“Oh.”

They were both silent for a moment, long enough to hear footsteps and voices approaching from the stairwell. Jesse finally turned around.

“Remember when you had blonde hair?”  
“It really wasn’t that long ago, Gabe.”  
“No, it really wasn’t.” There was a pause. “You aged terribly.”  
“Oh, did I now?”  
“Sure did. Went from golden-boy to silver man-child real quick.”  
“I think you mean silver fox.”  
“Do I now?”  
“I know you find it—“

The door swung open, Morrison and Reyes both stepping onto the roof before noticing McCree and Hanzo.

“Howdy.” McCree waggled his fingers at the pair. Hanzo simply stood, body rigid, as if frozen in horror.

“I—“ Morrison was obviously looking for the words to defend himself, and would probably have gotten himself further up Shit Creek if it weren’t for Reyes.  
“Students are not permitted on the roof,” he said, glancing at Morrison.  
“That’s right,” Jack said, regaining some of his composure. “McCree, I can’t say I know you well enough to be surprised. But Shimada,” he shook his head. “It’s that ‘Trashmouse’ kid, or whatever you call him, isn’t it? He’s a terrible influence.”  
“Jack…” Reyes intervened.  
“Right! This could spell Saturday detention for both of you.”

As if he weren’t in hot water already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry if this was a little slow, but I have big things planned for the next chapter!
> 
> Also, McCree smokes cigarettes in this because what high schooler smokes cigars? Probably one that I would like to punch.
> 
> You can find me at starsrgay.tumblr.com  
> Feel free to hmu

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All slang was provided courtesy of the internet, so please correct me if something makes no sense.
> 
> As far as I know, Chester, Rhode Island is not a real place, but it was based off a town in Connecticut that my mother once described as "the armpit of the world". Apologies if you actually do live in a Chester, Rhode Island.
> 
> Go ahead and hit me up on tumblr! starsrgay.tumblr.com


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